Read the mysterious story, find mistakes
Creak, creak, creak, creak... That nasty sound again. This is always heard at the hour of the bull. It's three o'clock in the morning today. I couldn't sleep anymore, I got up, took the gun. It's always been on the next pillow since I've been alone. No one wanted to live on a farm in this wilderness. Last Tuesday there was the same creaking, but I didn't get up, and in the morning I found Daisy, my favorite chicken, dead. I thought it was foxes or wolves, but 2 days later at night I heard the same creaking and in the morning I found a goose dead, and 2 days later a goat...